


Mercy

by orphan_account



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Family Issues, Guilt, M/M, Sad Ending, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:38:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9385532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It shouldn't be this way.





	1. Chapter 1

_Go,_ Josh’s mind tells him, _fucking run._

He goes, picks up his pace and ignores the pain coming from his core. He’s running. He hates running. Ratty sneakers tap, tap, tap along the sidewalk and he pretends to wish he had headphones in. He knows he doesn’t deserve it. _Run_ , he hears again. But there’s nothing to run away from, because she’s still there. She’s upstairs, asleep, and Josh can’t run away from her.

Guilt eats away at him as he pushes his body further and further. He should stop. It’s too much. His heart is throbbing, erratically so, and the soles of his feet hurt like they burn through his sneakers. It’s cold, it’s cold outside, and it’s cold in his heart. Why is he sweating? He shouldn’t be. He hasn’t pushed himself enough. He hasn’t eaten in God knows how long and he’s trying not to pass out as he runs.

_Stop!_ his body cries out. _Go,_ his mind whispers. How is a whisper so loud?

He runs on, but it’s not long before cries beat whispers and he turns to go home. He doesn’t stop, but he goes back.

Fresh guilt washes over Josh as he stands at the front door, his own fucking _front door_ , and he has to take a moment to collect himself. He wants to cry. He wants to run again. He goes inside.

In the house, he stalls, takes all the time in the world to take his shoes off and neglect to rub his sore feet and get a water bottle, sip, sip slowly. The water is halfway gone when tears threaten to make up for it. He fights it back, bites it back, heads upstairs. It’s quiet, and all he can hear is the low humming of the television from her bedroom. She’s eleven, she doesn’t need a TV in her room. She has one anyway, because Josh bought it for her and thought that maybe it would help the situation. It didn’t. It doesn’t.

He doesn’t give himself time to stop and think before he knocks on the door. Once, twice, there’s no answer. She’s still in there. He pushes open the door, scans the room and tries to adjust his eyes to how bright it is. Light bounces off of white walls, snaps back at him as if he asked for it. _“No pink,”_ she had said. White walls. He finds his daughter sitting up in bed, back to the wall and reading a book. _A Series of Unfortunate Events_ it says. _How fitting,_ Josh thinks.

She doesn’t look up when her father walks in the door, doesn’t show any kind of acknowledgement besides pulling the covers up and over her head, consumed by her bed entirely.

“Hey. Do you want something to eat?” Josh holds his breath. It shouldn’t be this way.

“Not right now, _dad_.” She spits the last word out like it tastes bad and Josh pretends he doesn’t notice. She stays under the covers. Josh sighs, hesitates a moment to give her the chance to say something else, to apologize, to just _do something._ She doesn’t, though, not a chance, and Josh doesn’t know why he’s disappointed. He turns to leave, and pulls the door shut behind himself softly. He ignores all of what he’s feeling as he finds himself downstairs on the living room couch, picking firmly at the stitches in his arm.


	2. Chapter 2

_Too far_. _This is too far_. Josh is running again. He’s running, too far, apparently, because his mind and body are both telling him that, telling him the same thing, a rare occurrence. Coffee and an apple sit heavy in his stomach and he’s running, he’s been running for longer than he ever has before and it’s _too fucking far_. He’s never run for this long. He’s never run this hard.

He won’t stop himself, though, won’t stop to figure out where he is. The houses are unfamiliar, rows and rows of ones that look the exact same and he doesn’t know why an architect would ever do that. Or why someone would want to live there. He supposes he’ll figure it out eventually. He’ll make it. He’ll try to make it.

He just keeps running, keeps punishing, keeps feeling. Genuine, conscious effort has to go into each stride to make it through and suddenly, something is wrong. His eyes blur, but he tries to ignore it. He’s just tired, he’s working hard. But it’s hard to say he’s just tired because his eyes are moving so slowly, barely able to take in the surroundings he doesn’t recognize. His vision is dull, fading, black, and the last thing he registers is the feeling of his body hitting grass and the sound of “oh, shit,” coming from somewhere nearby.

* * *

It’s not much later when Josh wakes up to an unfamiliar face. Unfamiliar, but not unwelcome because if Josh wasn’t so fucked up he would think the guy is good looking. But he’s fucked up, so he won’t focus on crooked teeth biting lips anxiously and thick brows and a sloped nose. He won’t.

It takes a moment for Josh to realize that the guys is talking to him. His ears finally catch up with his eyes and this guy is talking fast, so fast, Josh needs him to stop. He sits up, accidentally ignoring the guy’s outstretched hand to assist him in doing so. He’s still talking.

“Dude,” Josh says, and the guy stops and blinks. He’s panicking internally, and Josh knows it. Sweaty palms grab a shirt hem, rub, rub apprehensively.

“What? Are you okay? Can you see? Are you-”

“You need to shut the fuck up,” Josh says, and the guy stops and blinks again.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. How long was I out?” The guy is staring. He’s shaking. “How long was I out?” Josh repeats himself. The guy still shakes, but answers this time.

“Uh. Just a few minutes.” Josh nods and rubs his eyes, maybe the grogginess will wear off.

“I should get going.” The guy bites his lip.

“Are you sure you can make it?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Josh begins to stand, but barely makes it off the ground before his legs give out. He falls to his knees on the grass, right in front of the guy and doesn’t have time to think about how bad this could look as he reaches a hand out to grab onto something, anything to steady himself. The guy latches onto Josh’s arm tightly and his eyes go wide.

“Woah,” he says, “you’re not fine. You should go to the doctor.” Josh just shakes his head.

“No, really, I gotta-” he tries to stand one more time, his legs give out one more time.

“Come inside,” the guy says. Josh doesn’t have the energy to argue. He just lets the guy help him stand and follows him into his house. One of the hoses that look like all of the other ones around it, and Josh holds himself back from asking why he would want to live there.

Josh is instructed to make himself at home, but he doesn’t know how he can do that in a stranger’s house when he doesn’t even feel at home in his own house. He drops down into a barstool in the kitchen, and the house is so clean. He feels bad for dirtying it with his presence. _This guy’s too nice_.

“You should eat something.” The guy isn’t asking. He just turns, goes about finding something for Josh to eat.

“What’s your name?” Josh asks, and the guy stills, turns back to Josh with one hand still in the refrigerator.

“Oh. Tyler,” he says, “sorry.” Josh shakes his head.

“I’m Josh.” Tyler just nods, then turns back to finding something to eat. He pulls out a bowl of fruit, pushes it over to Josh.

“You should probably just, like, eat something light,” Tyler says, because apparently, fruit constitutes as ‘something light.’ Josh disagrees. Everything he eats feels heavy, weighs him down almost as much as his conscience. But he picks at the food, because this guy took him into his house, offered him food, and he’s not about to be rude and turn it down just because he’s shameful. He eats most of the fruit, but tires of it quickly. He pushes the bowl away.

“So, what happened?” Tyler is kind. He doesn’t want to pry but this guy’s in his _house._ He figures he deserves some explanation.

“Guess I passed out.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“I was just running, and . . . I don’t know.” He knows.

“Was it like, the first time you’ve run in a while? Or?”

“No, but I guess I just don’t usually run this far. I don’t even know where I am.” He laughs. It’s not funny. He doesn’t tell Tyler the part about the running being a punishment because that’s what he deserves. He just says that he doesn’t know where he is, which isn’t a lie, but it’s just not the whole truth. And he laughs at something that’s not funny. Not one bit.

Tyler bites his lip in a way that lets Josh know he’s thinking hard about something. Surely, it was something more significant than what he asks next, but he’s pushed it away.

“Let me drive you home.” Josh has known this guy for less than half an hour, and he’s already picked up on some things about him. One of which being that Tyler doesn’t offer things. He just tells. And once again, Josh has no energy for argument and he agrees and they’re out the door. It’s rushed, but Tyler’s not kicking him out. He thinks Josh doesn’t want to be at his house, thinks Josh has such a nice life at home that he misses dearly.

Tyler has a nice car. Josh wishes he could say the same. They ride in relative silence and Josh picks at the stitches some more. He thinks Tyler doesn’t notice, Tyler should be focusing on driving.

“You shouldn’t pick.” Josh keeps picking. His arm swells. “You should ah . . . get that checked out.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?” Josh doesn’t answer, and blames it on the fact that they’re arriving at his house.

“Thanks,” he says, “for uh, finding me, I guess.”

“You were in my front yard.” Tyler smiles, Josh tries to smile back before he gets out of the car and heads into his house. It’s still early, and she’s still at school.

Tyler drives back home and doesn’t think about Josh until he sees a cell phone that certainly is not his own, laying in his front yard. He stares at it for a moment because there’s no fucking way that the guy who just passed out in his front yard left his phone there. But he did, and now Tyler has to do something about it. He gets out of the car, from which he had been staring at the phone, and bends down to pick it up.

The screen is cracked in one corner, and Tyler wonders if it was there before he fell. He hopes so. He turns the phone on, and squints in slight surprise for a minute when he sees the lock screen. Why is he surprised? It’s a picture of Josh smiling brilliantly at the camera, big white teeth on display as a girl kisses him on the cheek. Tyler can’t see much of the girl’s face, but from the side, she’s pretty. Smooth skin, makeup applied to perfection, and her hair is light but Tyler can’t tell if it’s natural or dyed. He supposes it’s not his business. He’s really never been one to pry. Josh looks much younger in the picture. He has the same squinted eyes as he does now, but Tyler can tell the picture is somewhat old. He has dark facial hair in the picture, as opposed to his current clean-shave. His jaw and cheekbones are less defined, cheeks fuller. His hair appears thicker. Energy more present.

The screen fades to black and the picture disappears, and Tyler doesn’t try to turn it back on. He bites his lip and picks his eyes up to the house, then to the car. Josh doesn’t live too far away. It would be far to run, but not to drive. He sighs, and figures that if _he_ had passed out and lost his phone and someone had it, he would want it back. He takes the phone back in the car and tries not to think about who the girl in the picture is or the real reason why Josh passed out or what else is wrong with Josh because clearly there’s _something_. It’s not his business. He’s never been one to pry.

Josh doesn’t live too far away, and Tyler has a good memory. It’s not hard to get back to Josh’s house, he lives just off a high road nearby. Tyler pulls into the driveway of a house that looks nothing like the ones around it.

“What’s up?” is the first thing Josh says when he sees Tyler standing at his front door. He’s trying to be nonchalant, but he’s wiping away tears, and Tyler’s heart breaks.

“You left your phone. Well, dropped it. It was in the grass.” He holds the phone out to Josh who takes it gingerly, eyebrows raised.

“Oh. Thanks. I hadn’t even noticed,” he tries a laugh. Tyler laughs back. It’s kind of funny.

“Can I talk to you?” Tyler asks, and it’s a stupid fucking question, really, because they’re already talking. Josh makes a face. “I know we don’t really know each other,” Tyler goes on, “but are you like, like, is everything okay? With you?” Josh stares for a minute, then looks back into his house. Nobody else is home. She’s at school. He turns back to Tyler, then steps outside and pulls the door behind him, and suddenly, he’s standing so close to Tyler. But it’s over before it happens; he sits down on the steps leading up to his porch, and all of this is done so naturally. Like he was expecting this. _Was he expecting this?_

Tyler promptly copies Josh, and sits down next to him.

“I have a daughter,” Josh says, and suddenly. It all makes sense to Tyler. _Obviously,_ Tyler thinks. _Obviously, he has a kid. She’s three. Maybe two. Terrible Two’s, that’s it. Josh is stressed. That’s what’s wrong with him._ “She’s almost twelve,” Josh chooses to follow up with, and the air flies out of Tyler’s lungs. “Her mom left.” Tyler doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. He came to return a phone, this shouldn’t be happening. They don’t know each other. They shouldn’t be having this conversation. They’re having it anyway.

“Recently?”

“Is ten years ago recent?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

They’re silent for a minute, and Tyler pretends to be interested in a pebble he finds next to him on the step.

“Can I put my number in your phone?” Tyler surprises himself. He didn’t even mean to ask that.

“Why?” It comes out sounding much more rude than Josh had intended, but he doesn’t take it back. Tyler shrugs, and Josh is glad to see that he’s not offended.

“You can text me if you need it.” Josh knows what he means, but he’s not sure Tyler knows what he’s gotten himself into. He agrees.

“I should get going,” Josh says, “she should be coming home soon.”

“It’s noon.”

“Half day,” Josh says, and they both stand to leave. Josh doesn’t want Tyler to meet his daughter, but before he can excuse himself, a bus pulls up near them and only two kids get off the bus. One is a little boy, and one is a little girl, and Tyler realizes who the girl is. Josh rubs his eyes, holds his breath, and realizes how wrong that is. It shouldn’t be like this. But it is and she’s walking toward the house with a cautious yet defensive look as she eyes up Tyler. Tyler squints and stares. He’s staring at a child. A child who, Tyler notes, does not look much like Josh. Her eyes are too large, hair too light. She’s quite thin, but walks with a sort of intensity. She’s eleven, Tyler reminds himself. She’s eleven.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tyler can see Josh raise an arm to wave to the girl as she dodges the front door and is about to make her way in through the open garage door. She gives him a look that some might call nasty, and disappears into the garage. Tyler feels bad, and suddenly, he realizes that maybe Josh’s problems run deeper than he knows. Not that he knows anything.

Tyler looks back to Josh just in time to see his arm drop and a defeated look smack him across the face like someone hit him. He puts his head in his hands and Tyler has to strain his ears to hear what he says next.

“I’m sorry. You should go. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Um. Just- text me. If you, you know, need to talk.”

Josh thinks he just might need to talk sometime.


	3. Chapter 3

The first time Josh texts Tyler saying that he needs to talk, he feels like an idiot. He doesn’t know this guy. This guy doesn’t need to know. Josh needs someone to know.

**_I can come to yours._ **

Josh wants to cry. He’s texting this guy out of the blue, this guy he met just a few days ago, and he’s not questioning it. He just tells Josh he can come over, once again, not asking. Telling.

**_okay_ **

It doesn’t take long for Tyler to get to Josh’s, and there’s no question which one it is because it’s the one that doesn’t look as bright as the other ones around. Tyler doesn’t know how he feels about that, and maybe he feels sad. He sits in the car staring up at Josh’s house until he notices that Josh is outside, back on the steps like he was the day he went to return his phone. It’s chilly outside, and Josh is in a t-shirt.

“Hey,” Josh says, and Tyler honestly wasn’t expecting him to start talking first.

“Hi. What’s going on?” Tyler sits down, listens as Josh inhales deeply. He bites his lip, tentative.

“I don’t know, like, it’s nothing specific right now.”

“That’s okay.” And that’s all it takes for Josh to start crying. It’s not heavy sobs, it’s sniffles and barely-leaking tears that Josh is obviously trying _so_ hard to hold back and somehow, that’s worse. Tyler bites his lip and tries not to panic. “Sorry,” Josh says, and Tyler just shakes his head.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” Josh says through a humorless laugh. “I never talk about this stuff.” Tyler bites his lip again, wonders why Josh hasn’t talked to anyone else about whatever is bothering him, why as soon as Tyler offered to be the one to talk to, he took him up on it. “My own daughter hates me.” Tyler suspected this is what this would be about, but he wasn’t expecting him to be so blunt. Josh says it in a way that makes him seem so defeated, so desensitized, and it scares Tyler a lot.

“I’m sure she doesn’t hate you,” he replies, and he cringes internally immediately after. It only gets worse when Josh stares at him for a moment.

“She won’t even come out of her room.”

“Some kids are like that,” Tyler says, and Josh sighs. “Sometimes they’re just like, quiet, you know? Maybe it’s just her personality?” Josh rubs his eyes.

“Yeah, I get that some kids are shy, but not with their own fucking _fathers_. That’s wrong. I’ve never done anything to her, you know? I’ve never laid a hand on her, never done _anything_ , and she just- she fucking-” Josh cuts himself off, partially because he's lying and partially because he feels Tyler grab his right wrist. The same wrist that he had been subconsciously using to pick at the stitches in his left arm during his stress-induced rant. Tyler pulls Josh’s hand away, and they don’t say anything for a minute.

“Was she like that before . . . um.” Tyler doesn’t want to say it, and judging by the look on Josh’s face, Josh doesn’t want him to say it either. And Tyler doesn’t know what to say either, he was expecting Josh to fill in the blanks for him, but he doesn’t. And he doesn’t know that he ever will. He sniffs. He sighs. He touches his forehead.

“I just don't know . . .” he’s searching for the right words. They don’t exist, but he can come close, “why I’m not _good_ enough.”

“Josh, you _are_ , don’t say that. You’re a single dad, all you can do is try. That’s all you can do.” Josh was expecting this, but doesn’t know if he can label it as disappointing or not. “She’ll come around. She’s still young.” Josh nods, and has to hold himself back with all his might from reaching out to pick at the stitches.

“I hope so.” _I don’t think so_. There’s not much to say after that, not when it’s only the second time they’ve met. So Tyler looks out at the street in front of them, and Josh tries not to pick at the stitches.

* * *

The second time Josh texts Tyler saying that he needs to talk, he still feels like an idiot, but perhaps not as much, because at least he knows that Tyler won’t judge him.

**_You can come over to mine_ **

**_only if you want_ **

Tyler is too nice.

Josh ends up having to ask Tyler for his address, and he feels bad about it because Tyler didn’t have to ask. But he realizes that the only time he’s ever been to Tyler’s house was when he passed out, so he figures he has an excuse. Tyler doesn’t seem to mind. Of course not.

Josh pulls up to Tyler’s house that looks just like the rest of the ones around it and today, he wears a jacket. Tyler opens the door immediately after Josh knocks and he wonders if he was there waiting for him. He pushes it out of his mind as Tyler leads him inside.

They sit in the kitchen again, in the same place they did the day Josh passed out, with Josh at a barstool and Tyler standing across from him, leaning against the counter. It’s comforting. Without thinking, Josh takes his jacket off to reveal an arm covered in a bandage and immediately, Tyler is worried. All thought of _don’t pry don’t pry_ go out of his mind.

“Is your arm okay?” Josh stills for a moment.

“I’m too old for this shit,” he says, and Tyler hopes he doesn’t mean he’s too old to be having problems.

“For what?”

“Hurting myself.” It’s blunt, and Tyler can see how genuinely miserable and broken Josh is. Tyler’s heart hurts, and he doesn’t want to say it but he says it.

“You’re right. You can’t be doing that. You’re probably hurting her too.” Josh winces and physically crumbles, and guilt consumes Tyler. “Does she know?” he asks, in a much softer voice.

“Probably, honestly. Everytime she asks I just give her some excuse. But she’s smart. She probably knows.” He pauses, pensive. “God, it’s so embarrassing.”

“It’s nothing to be-”

“It’s _embarrassing_ ,” Josh says, and that shuts Tyler up immediately. He mumbles out a sorry, and he wishes he never brought it up. Josh sighs and shakes his head. “I just wish I was-”

“You _are_ good enough.” This time, Tyler cuts off Josh, and Josh is shocked for a moment, but then does something Tyler wasn’t expecting, and he _smiles_. He actually, genuinely smiles, and it’s kind of a small smile and Tyler wishes he could see more of it but he’ll take what he can get and he smiles back. He smiles back.

* * *

The third time Josh texts Tyler saying that he needs to talk, he feels like a lot less of an idiot but slightly more nervous because for the first time, Tyler is coming over when she’s home. And awake.

They don’t sit on the front steps this time, and Tyler feels weird being in Josh’s house. The inside is nothing like his own, much messier, probably from general neglect. It’s sad.

They drop down onto a slightly tattered couch in the living room and Tyler wishes Josh didn’t look like he was collapsing in on himself all the time, like everything is so taxing on his mind and body. But he does. It’s sad.

Josh is back to wearing long sleeves and Tyler doesn’t know what that means. He’s not sure he wants to.

“So,” Tyler says. This is awkward. Why is this awkward?

“I talked to her earlier.” Tyler raises his brows. It’s not awkward. “I told her someone was coming over. She might not even come downstairs.” Tyler thinks Josh can sense his nerves, and that’s why he said that last part. He’s apprehensive about meeting Josh’s daughter but _she’s eleven_ he tries to tell himself. _She’s eleven._

“Okay,” is all he can say, and Josh gives him a look.

“She probably won’t come down,” he tries again, but he’s wrong, he’s proven so wrong because suddenly, there’s footsteps coming down the stairs and there’s only one person upstairs and Tyler’s palms are sweating. _She’s eleven._

She stops at the bottom of the stairs when she sees Tyler and Josh sitting there, and Tyler almost quirks a brow. She’s wearing a bright, light pink dress with a puffy tulle bottom and Tyler definitely didn’t peg her for the dress-up type. Not that he knows enough about her, but if the way Josh speaks about her says anything, he expected something a bit . . . _less._

“Hi,” Josh says to her, and Tyler is amazed at how one little word can sound so forced, so _unlike_ how a conversation between a father and daughter should sound. “I told you Tyler was coming, right?” He knows he’s right, but in all honesty, he doesn’t know what else to say besides _it shouldn’t be this way_ but he can’t. He could never.

“Hi,” she ignores Josh and looks to Tyler, and shyly states her greeting. And suddenly, any sign of nerves or anxiety Tyler had been showing before are somehow completely gone and he seems to be _glowing_ when he responds.

“Hi,” he chirps, “I like your dress.” He beams, and Josh is dumbfounded. Not because of what Tyler said but because of how she reacts. In all eleven-almost-twelve years of his daughter’s life, he has never seen her blush the way she does when Tyler says that to her, never seen that shy smile grace her face, lighting up her rosy cheeks. He watches on in stunned silence as she mutters a bashful thanks to Tyler and scutters out of the room.

Tyler doesn’t know what he was expecting after that, but it certainly wasn’t for Josh to break down. Head in his hands, Josh sits on the couch crying uncontrollably and Tyler can’t tell if it’s good or bad or somewhere in between, but either way, he does his best to rub his back as comfortingly as he can, and winces with the sound of each heavy sob.

* * *

The fourth, fifth, and however many times after that Josh texts Tyler saying that he needs to talk, he doesn’t feel like an idiot. He just wants to be around Tyler. Tyler, who’s too nice for his own good. Who tells Josh that he’s good enough, who makes him eat when he knows he needs to. Tyler, who almost entirely gets Josh to stop picking at the stitches.

They spend quite a bit of time together, usually at Josh’s house because Josh doesn’t have a babysitter. He’ll probably never get one either. Sometimes, things border on flirty between the pair, but given Josh’s current situation, Tyler doesn’t think it’s a good time to get into any kind of relationship. Josh agrees. Josh is thankful.

But things are undeniably getting better, mostly thanks to Tyler. Josh eats more. He figures that he can’t keep trying to take care of a child when he’s starving and lacking energy. Tyler also takes Josh to the doctor to get his stitches looked at. The doctor tells Josh that he should have had them removed long ago, but due to obvious reasons, he shouldn’t, and couldn’t. They’re not infected, but seriously in danger of becoming it, so Josh tries his hardest to stop messing with them.

And things get better between Josh and his daughter. Somehow, Tyler has this _light_ about him. This light that seems to guide her out of her room and into finally, _finally_ interacting with Josh and Tyler. Conversation isn’t so stiff between her and Josh, especially when Tyler is around. And yeah, sometimes there’s still the thoughts of _it shouldn’t be this way_ but it’s better. It’s Tyler. Josh knows it.

In all eleven-almost-twelve years of his daughter’s life, Josh has been there for all of her firsts: her first steps, her first words, her first bike ride, and now with Tyler, he experiences so many more. The first time he saw her blush and get embarrassed was with Tyler. The first time she voluntarily joins Josh for a movie is when Tyler is there. And the first time Josh sees her laugh so hard she cries is because of something Tyler says.

Things seem better with Tyler, and the house stops looking so much darker than the ones around it.


	4. Chapter 4

As much as Tyler helps, he can’t heal everything. There are still days when Josh runs and runs for hours because he hates it, he hates it so much. He hates himself so much and he runs, and he does it all on an empty stomach simply because he can’t bring himself to eat anything. And there are days when Josh regrets going to get his stitches fixed because he wants to bite them, pull on them, rip them out just to feel something. Just to see blood.

On these days, these bad days, Josh can’t pull himself out of bed. On these days, guilt consumes him and he has to call up his mom crying, desperately sobbing into the phone because he’s not good enough to be a parent she needs to come get her his daughter needs someone who can look after her please oh please help me. On these days, Josh has to tell his daughter that he’s just not feeling very well, and that he has to go to the doctor so she has to go to grandma’s. Josh thinks she knows the truth, but things have been getting better and she’s smart so she doesn’t say anything. But Josh knows that she knows.

And of course, on these days, Tyler comes to the rescue. He doesn’t even have to get a text from Josh. In fact, whenever he _doesn’t_ get a text from Josh first thing in the morning, he knows it’s one of those days. He doesn’t have to say anything, just goes right over to Josh’s house and picks him up, brings him back to his place. There, he gets him to eat. Usually, it takes a while, but it gets done. He sends Josh into the shower and has to check on him sometimes because he stays in there for so long. Tyler wishes he didn’t hear the sound of Josh vomiting in the shower on these days.

Yes, on these days, Josh hits his lowest point. He breaks down, cries and hates himself all day and cries some more, and it’s always about how he’s not fucking good enough, he’ll never be enough to be the father of his child. All he’s done has ruined him, and he ruins everything else. On these days, Tyler just holds him as he cries, and waits for the storm to pass.

The worst part is that usually, things are so good. Usually, Tyler is there, always there, and he makes things better effortlessly. But it’s true that what goes up must come down, and with such high peaks in his life, the following drop is sure to be fatal.

One week ago was the highest point of Josh’s life.

* * *

It’s late, and it’s only getting so much later, and it’s been one of those days. Josh can’t stop thinking about her. He can’t stop replaying their last words over and over again, and he can’t stop praying desperately to a God that he’s not even sure exists anymore.

_“Take her, Josh, I don’t fucking care.”_

_“Take her, Josh, you’ll never stop drinking.”_

_“Take her, Josh, you’ll be a deadbeat in a month.”_

Josh shakes his head, because he thinks it’ll shake the thoughts out. It doesn’t, for obvious reasons, and his body is in autopilot because he needs to forget. It’s been so long. Is he doing this?

He’s doing this. His body is no longer responding to what his brain is saying, his body is getting into the car, turning on the engine and driving away. His mind knows what he should do, but his body does what it wants. His mind knows he should just text Tyler, and everything would be alright. But Tyler doesn’t know. His body doesn’t let him text Tyler.

The liquor store is exactly the same as Josh remembers it; same musty scent, damp air that he can’t wait to get out of but also wants to live in his lungs forever. The same little old man is working behind the counter, and he gives Josh a sympathetic look when he puts his assortment of alcohol on the counter. Josh sneers. He doesn’t want sympathy. He doesn’t want pity. He needs this.

Josh goes back out into his car and weighs his options. He could sit in the car and drink it all right now, right here in this sketchy parking lot and perhaps drive drunk and crash and die or just drink until he kills himself which honestly, doesn’t seem so bad right now. Or he could take it home and drink it, and his mother and daughter could find him and drive him to the hospital to find out that he’s already dead. Both sound so good. But he ditches both ideas, and decides he could just drink on the way.

But he ends up ditching that idea, too, for some reason, because he lets the liquor sit in the passenger seat next to him and he’s about to reach over to grab a bottle of vodka but the stops. He doesn’t just stop moving, he stops the car. It’s 1 am, and there’s no one on the roads, and Josh pulls over on the middle of a bridge. He just notices that his whole body is sweating, and he’s thinking about her again.

He’s pulled over, and he’s trying to calm down but he can’t because he’s crying and he’s on a fucking bridge and all he can think about it how it’s dark and he’s alone, and there's no one around to see him, and how easy it would be to just jump.

To just jump and disappear.

But he doesn’t jump, because he stops thinking about the mother of his child and he starts thinking about his child herself. He think about how terrible things had been, and how much things have improved since Tyler’s been around. _Tyler_. He thinks about Tyler, about how good he makes him feel, and how he always seems to know what to do or say to make him feel better, or at least to try. He can’t leave that behind. He finds himself standing on a bridge in the dark, alone, and there’s a smile creeping onto his face. And suddenly, his body catches up to what his mind has been telling him and he pulls out his phone and texts Tyler.

**_Can I come over?_ **

He pockets his phone, then opens the passenger side door, and pulls out the entire bag of alcohol and drops it right over the edge of the bridge without hesitation and thinks _things will get better_. He stares at it long enough for it to hit the water and for it to make an unpleasant sound before he turns to get back into the car. He takes a deep breath, then starts the car up again and begins the drive home. He wipes his tears away. _Things will get better_.

He drives along, revels in the silence of the night as he makes a sharp left turn off of the bridge and onto a backroad. He turns corners quickly at 1 am because surely, there is no one on the road. Surely, he’s alone. But he’s not, and when Josh sees headlights blazing directly into his eyes, he realizes that for the first time in eleven-almost-twelve years, he really, _really_ does not want to die. But he can’t seem to ever get what he wants, because the headlights are still approaching and Josh doesn’t have time to swerve or stop and someone is on the road and they crash. Head on.

The last thing Josh sees flash before his eyes is the image of Tyler’s face after he woke up from passing out in his yard that day.

His phone lights up in his pocket.

**_Of course:)_ **

Tyler’s text goes unread. 


	5. Chapter 5

Josh’s funeral is small, the kind that the funeral arrangement company had called an “intimate affair.” That’s not true. It’s not intimate. It’s only small because Josh doesn’t know anyone besides his family and Tyler, and it’s anything but intimate.

Tyler enters the grand viewing room later than everybody else. The last one to walk in, he has to most to look at.

Josh’s parents are there, and they look entirely gray. Their hair is gray from age and their faces are gray from the death of their son. Their clothes are black, but it doesn’t take away from the grayness of everything else. Josh’s dad tries to comfort his wife, tries to wipe away small tears of his own while his wife is sobbing uncontrollably in his arms. They don’t look at Tyler, they’re too busy looking at the floor.

Josh’s siblings are nearby, looking through a book of pictures that document Josh’s life. Tyler doesn’t know how they can look at that. One of his sisters wipes away tears with her fingertips while the other has a tissue. His brother stands somewhat off to the side. Hands in his pockets, looking up to the sky, he looks much more regretful than sad. Tyler doesn’t know why.

There are a few other people lingering around that Tyler doesn’t recognize and can’t match names to, perhaps cousins and aunts and uncles. He doesn’t see any grandparents.

There is one person that Tyler recognizes, but also cannot match a name to. It’s a girl, she looks about Josh’s age, perhaps a bit younger, and Tyler recognizes her from the picture on Josh’s phone. Josh assumes she is the mother of his daughter, the one that left ten years ago. The one that Josh must still love if he’s kept her as his background for all this time. She has the same light hair, and her skin is still smooth, and her makeup is still applied to perfection. She’s not crying. She doesn’t look that sad. She looks rather annoyed, in fact, like it’s such a hassle for her to be at the funeral of her deceased ex-whatever. Her posture is stiff and she has a face that says she would rather be anywhere but here. She’s wearing all black, but she holds a white sweater in her crossed arms. Tyler thinks that’s kind of rude.

And the last person Tyler’s eyes land on when he walks in the room is not Josh. His daughter is in the corner of the room, sitting numbly in a cold metal chair that can’t be comfortable. She, also, does not look sad. But she doesn’t look annoyed like her (probably) mother. In fact, she doesn’t look like anything. She just sits with her head down, staring at her feet adorned in black flats, completely emotionless. She seems so closed-off, so detached, completely back to the way she was before Tyler met her and started making her come out of her shell.

Tyler watches her, and realizes how everything has come full-circle. It shouldn’t be this way.  _ It really shouldn’t be this way. _


End file.
